Chapter 30: The Price of Defeat

The Karluks had once breached Three-River Fortress, turning it into a living hell. Now that the Han people had recaptured it, the fortress had become a hell for the Karluks in return.

The sky was pitch black, visibility near zero. Under a fine, misty rain, torches were erected across Three-River Fortress, illuminating vast stretches of the ground. The earth was slick with Karluk blood and littered with corpses; the stench of mangled flesh and gore hung heavy in the air, nauseating to behold. This carnage drew flocks of vultures that circled overhead, their greedy cries piercing the silence. Shattered weapons lay scattered everywhere, some still jutting from the bodies of the fallen, catching the flickering torchlight with an eerie, cold gleam.

The intermittent groans of severely wounded Karluk soldiers drifted through the night wind, deepening the grim atmosphere. But these sounds were soon cut short as the blades of the Han warriors sliced cleanly across their throats. The once-peaceful grassland had transformed into a slaughterhouse. Tents were shredded and ruined, and the flames of lingering fires licked at the remnants of belongings, crackling as they burned. Where hooves had trampled, the earth had churned into a dark, blood-soaked mire. Some of the Karluks' warhorses galloped in panic across the battlefield, their shrill neighs cutting through the night. The dead Karluks stared into the darkness with hollow eyes, as if silently testifying to the futility of life and the cruelty of war.

The battle was over, but the suffering of the Karluks had only just begun.

Most of the Karluks within Three-River Fortress had been purged; only a few remained, hiding in the corners of buildings. The priority now was to clear these survivors out. Li Dashan led a group into a courtyard, torches held high, revealing everything within.

"Search!" Li Dashan commanded. "Turn everything inside and out. Find every last one of them. Do not overlook a single corner."

Men charged into the rooms, overturning chests and cabinets to root out anyone in hiding. In the courtyard, just as Li Dashan walked past a sheep pen, a Karluk suddenly sprang from the flock, blade in hand, and lunged at him.

"Look out!" Chen Erqiang shouted. Li Dashan’s expression shifted; as he stepped back, he raised his own blade to meet the attacker.

*Clang!*

The blades clashed, neither yielding. But Li Dashan’s block bought time for the others. Chen Erqiang and Old Zhu, wielding long spears, thrust quickly at the Karluk. Experienced in combat and well-coordinated, they struck true, piercing the man’s abdomen.

"Aaaah!" The Karluk coughed blood, his face twisted in a savage grimace. He cast a final, desperate look toward the haystacks used for feeding the livestock and roared, abandoning all concern for his wounds, intent on trading his life for those of his enemies. It was a futile gesture, and he was quickly surrounded and cut down.

"Hmph, you dog, you almost got me," Li Dashan muttered, looking down at the corpse.

Chen Erqiang nodded. "These Karluks are truly treacherous." The others agreed. The Karluk forces on the main battlefield had collapsed, and now they had resorted to guerrilla tactics. Fortunately, the layout of Three-River Fortress was simple, and there were not many buildings. Finding the hidden survivors would not be difficult.

"Keep searching," Li Dashan ordered in a low voice. "Don't let any of them escape."

While the others continued their search, his gaze lingered on a haystack in the yard. He remembered that before the Karluk died, he had cast a glance in that direction.

"Someone's there?" Li Dashan grew alert and signaled to Chen Erqiang. As they approached the haystack, and just as Chen Erqiang prepared to thrust his spear into it, a figure burst forth.

The attacker, wielding a worn, short blade, lunged at Chen Erqiang. But Chen Erqiang reacted with speed, dodging the strike and delivering a heavy kick that sent the attacker flying against the wall.

"Heh, just a wolf cub," Chen Erqiang chuckled. No wonder the strike had lacked power. It was only a Karluk child. Such an ambush meant nothing to him.

He glanced over and realized there were four more Karluks hidden in the straw—all old, weak, or female. An elderly woman, her face etched with wrinkles, cradled a three- or four-year-old girl. Two younger women, perhaps in their twenties, stood with them. Each held a blade, pointing them toward the Han soldiers with faces full of fury and terror. There was also a boy of about twelve or thirteen, the one Chen Erqiang had just kicked, now curled in the corner, vomiting blood and writhing in pain.

Most of the adult Karluk men were already corpses outside. All that remained of this tribe were the elderly, the women, and the children.

"Looks like a noble family," Chen Erqiang observed. Their clothing and the household items scattered about suggested this family had held some status in the tribe. But their honor, privilege, and dignity were now utterly extinguished along with their tribe.

"Get them out, then take whatever is valuable," Li Dashan ordered. As they stepped toward the two young women, the captives cried out in terror.

"Don't come any closer!"
"I'll kill you!"

They lunged with their blades, but though nomadic women were often warriors themselves, the disparity in strength was too great. Li Dashan and Chen Erqiang didn't even need to draw their weapons fully to subdue them. Chen Erqiang struck the older woman in the jaw, knocking her unconscious.

"Mother! Aunt!"
"Aaaah! I'll kill you!"

Seeing their mother and aunt struck down, the Karluk boy flew into a rage. Like a furious young bull, he charged at the men with his blade. He was fighting for his life, seeking to avenge the father he had seen killed by these "demons." At thirteen or fourteen, he was nearly a man, already a warrior in the saddle.

Facing the boy’s desperate charge, the two men could no longer be careless. Chen Erqiang swung his blade, and with a sharp *clack*, the boy’s scimitar was sent flying. Li Dashan’s face remained cold as his own sword swept across the boy’s throat. Blood geysered, and the light in the boy’s eyes slowly faded.

The two men worked with practiced, tacit coordination, snuffing out the threat in an instant.

"Anu! Anu! My grandson!" The old woman shrieked, her aged face twisted in agony and rage. "You devils! The gods will not forgive you!" She placed the little girl on the ground, picked up the blade her daughter had dropped, and lunged forward.

But she was no threat. Before she could strike, Li Dashan caught her wrist with one hand, holding her fast. His expression was indifferent. "Old thing, if you miss your grandson so much, go join him." He raised his other hand, and his blade swept across her throat.

*Splurt.*

Blood sprayed as she collapsed, her face a mask of despair and fury. Li Dashan’s actions were undoubtedly brutal, but war had always been this way. When the Karluks had breached the fortress, had they not been just as cruel to the Han residents? Of the thousand Han people who had lived here, less than half remained; the rest were ghosts beneath the Karluks' blades.

The world was a place where the strong preyed upon the weak. In the resource-scarce Western Regions, tribal warfare was constant, a necessity for survival. It had always been this way. The old woman was past childbearing age, unable to work, and had no value to the Han—she would only waste food. Even if they spared her, she would not survive.

The commotion in the yard drew others, and soon Li Xiao and his men rode up.

"Sixth Uncle, are you alright?" Li Xiao asked, his armor stained with blood, his heavy horse-spear in hand.

Li Dashan smiled lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Just a wolf cub, already taken care of."

Li Xiao glanced at the corpses and understood. This family must have held a high position in the tribe—the quantity of livestock in their yard far exceeded that of the others. But no matter how noble they had been, they were now broken. Except for the two young women and the little girl, they were all dead.

Li Xiao felt no sympathy. This was a game of stakes. Having chosen war, they had to pay the price of defeat. The men were to be beheaded, the women taken as slaves. It had always been so. Should their own fortress, Hexi, ever be breached, the villagers' fate would be no better. In the brutal reality of the Western Regions, this was the blood-soaked law of the land.

"Has the Karluk chieftain been caught?" Li Dashan asked. He knew Li Xiao was hunting him; the man had been severely wounded in the earlier fighting but had managed to escape.

Li Xiao shook his head, then declared with certainty, "Not yet, but he won't get far. We will find him." He turned to his men. "Let's go. Dig three feet into the earth if you must, but find him."

As for why he was so determined to find the man, the heavy horse-spear in Li Xiao’s hand provided the answer.